


Breaking Point

by ryttu3k



Series: Simstagram Side Stories [9]
Category: The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Embedded Images, Family, Hospitalization, M/M, Major Character Injury, Polyamory, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryttu3k/pseuds/ryttu3k
Summary: Everything has to reach a breaking point.
Relationships: Caleb Vatore/Johnny Zest, Morgyn Ember/Caleb Vatore, Morgyn Ember/Lilith Vatore
Series: Simstagram Side Stories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643032
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a side story for my [Simstagram](https://www.instagram.com/calebvvatore/) for Caleb.
> 
> Content warnings: serious injury, vampiric themes, references to trauma and past drug addiction.

**San Myshuno General Hospital  
19th August 2018**

He looks so small in the hospital bed.

Caleb is cold. His limbs feel leaden, chilled like concrete; he thinks he would need to be set on fire to drag himself out of his huddle on the floor, knees to his chest, arms around his legs. From this vantage point, he can see the foot of the bed, the small slight shape under the blankets; if he was to stand he'd see all the wires and tubes, the cuts and bruises, the heart monitor setting a steady staccato.

He'd see the medical tape and the ventilator. He'd see closed eyes. He'd see no spark or consciousness written on Johnny's face.

  
  


Caleb buries his head in his arms and wishes this wasn't happening.

"I'm sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances, Caleb," Geoffrey Summerhill, formerly Geoffrey Landgraab, formerly Geoffrey Summerhill, says hoarsely.

Caleb is standing by the bed, now, Johnny's slack hand in his own. He gives Geoffrey a weak smile, flicks his gaze to his face and away again. "Yeah," he says raggedly, and forces his head up again. "How are you doing?"

Geoffrey grimaces, the expression pulling at the dressing on his face. "Sore. I'm very bruised. It could be worse." His own gaze has barely left the face of his unconscious eldest son. "He got the worst of it. I was only clipped." Scrubbing one hand through his hair, he shakes his head, taking Johnny's other hand.

  


Silence, but for the beeping of the heart monitor. The sounds of the rest of the hospital are muffled. Caleb is grateful for the privacy of a single room.

"This is my fault," Geoffrey says.

Slowly, Caleb lifts his head.

Geoffrey has not looked away from Johnny's face. Without waiting for acknowledgement, he pushes on like a confession. "I'm with Central Intelligence. There are plenty of people that want me dead. I have no reason to believe they didn't attempt just that, and he got caught in the crossfire. I don't believe this was a random hit-and-run, and I don't believe anyone would have any reason to target him."

Caleb stands silently, reaches for the phone on the table pushed to the side of the room. Johnny is still logged into his Simstagram, and the messages themselves may have been deleted but the notifications still show exactly what people have been saying. Without speaking, he hands it over.

Geoffrey's brow furrows, scanning the abusive words, the slurs, the threats. The sigh escapes him like a groan. "I didn't know. How long has this been going on?"

"A few years," Caleb says softly, and stares at Johnny's hand in his. "At first it was like... you know, stupid shit. But it's been getting really abusive over the past few months. All of those are just from yesterday and the day before. You know, the article -"

His voice cracks.

A slow exhale. Geoffrey gazes at the screen, then sets the phone back down.

"I didn't know." Closes his eyes. "I'll get my colleagues - former colleagues - to investigate."

"Former?"

"I'm compromised." His hand tightens around Johnny's. "Nancy's article - she said, quite openly, that I'm an agent. I can't exactly return to the field. And how could I, knowing that my actions may have lead to her speaking out? This could still be my fault."

"It's not your fault she's a criminal bitch."

Geoffrey raises his head, smiles small and sad. "Isn't it?"

The doctor is younger than Caleb was expecting.

He has a solemnity about him, a graveness. Caleb stares at his hands around the clipboard, stares because he can't quite process the words and the reason for such a seriousness.

He can't. He can't quite deal. He can't bring together _internal bleeding_ and _brain damage_ and _multiple organ failure_ into a single conclusion, because that conclusion is an obscenity.

Caleb stares at the doctor's hands around the clipboard, and refuses to listen as Geoffrey pleads for his son's life, if there's nothing that can be done, and the doctor raises his head and looks straight to Caleb.

  


"There is, in fact," he says, "Something that can be done, actually."

"There are some vampires who ask for it," he says. "To be turned. My sister did, and that was to protect me, but it was still her choice. I _never_ got the choice."

Caleb can't even look at Johnny now. His gaze is on the floor.

"It's the worst thing that ever happened to me." His voice cracks. "I was going to die. She had attacked me, and drank from me, a-and I was bleeding out on a bathroom floor. And I was going to die. And she decided she wanted to keep me instead, so she forced me to swallow her blood. I still died, and then I woke up as a monster, and it's been four and a half years and I still _wake up screaming_."

Geoffrey is still holding Johnny's hand. Still has his gaze fixed on his son. "This isn't the same, Caleb."

"How is it _not_?"

"You're not the one killing him." Geoffrey's voice is soft and heavy. "The woman who turned you - she took that choice from you in the first place. In this case, it was the driver of the car. You have the opportunity to _save_ him. If you do nothing, he'll die."

Caleb presses his nails into the palm of his hand, tries to stop his eyes growing hot and wet. "I can't - I can't make him live like this. Mr Summerhill -"

"Geoffrey -"

"Geoffrey, this is _forever_. He'll never grow older. He'll never change. He'll just... stay like this. Stuck outside of the rest of being human." Caleb's voice cracks again. "I killed someone once. I didn't mean to, but I lost control a-and they died. And every day I just - live in fear of doing that again. Hurting someone. How can I make him live like that, being this - this parasite?"

  
  


Geoffrey's eyes are dark and brown, and for a moment Caleb hates that they're not green. Hates that Johnny didn't inherit his eyes from someone who loves him, hates that Nancy Landgraab is reflected in his face. Those dark brown eyes look bruised when he says, "Caleb, he's told me before what it's like, living with you. That you can live using these fruits. That you've never so much as even come close to losing control."

Caleb stares, stares, stares at the floor.

"I've been a negligent father. I know. But we've talked quite a bit in recent months." Geoffrey isn't staring at the floor, and he's not looking at his son; now, his gaze is on Caleb. "He loves you. He told me that he's offered before, and you've refused for his own sake. I know you're afraid of forcing this on him, but I know that if he was able to, he would say the same thing now - that he wants to live his life with you, whether as a human or as a vampire. Caleb, my son wants to live. Through everything he's dealt with, he's always wanted to live."

The floor blurs and wobbles. Caleb can feel the tears dripping down his cheeks. He's lost in memory, of every time he's tried to kill himself, every time he's tried to force his suffering to a full stop. Waiting for the sun to rise, standing on the highest part of the roof with his arms flung wide, hurling himself into the grimiest, worst places he can find in hope of finding people to tear him to shreds.

And Johnny. Meeting Johnny. Finding him drift across his thoughts and prompting unexpected smiles. Long conversations over text, curled up on the sofa watching TV in his old apartment; watching the skyline from Uptown Plaza, hand in hand, wondering what their future will be.

Johnny makes him want to live.

Shouldn't he give him the opportunity to keep living, too?

"What do I have to do?" he says.

They're alone, now.

The doctor has given him instructions. Geoffrey is waiting outside, filling out paperwork. Explaining. Putting it down in writing that his son will be given a lethal dose of anaesthesia, but it's okay - it's okay, because he'll have enough vampiric blood in his system to save him from inevitable death. That every cell in his body will rewrite itself from human to vampire, that his heart will slow and stop but a power stronger than biology will make him animate, that his lungs will no longer draw breath but his voice will come from beyond the veil of death.

When Johnny Zest dies, there will be Caleb's vampire blood in his body, and that is what will bring him back.

He's too badly injured to survive on his own. Too damaged and broken. The only way, the doctor has said, the only way is for each cell to rewrite itself, to repair the damage and lock it in place for an eternity, perfect and pristine until the day the sun dies.

Caleb takes his hand.

"I never wanted this for you," he says, and his voice is hollow. "I hate being like this. You know I do. I still have nightmares about that night. I can still taste her blood in my mouth and trying to fight her because I know that if I die with it in me, then I'll change forever. And now I'm doing this to you _on purpose_ , because I can't let you go. Because I'm not ready. Because I'm fucking scared."

He gazes at their joined hands. At his own wrists, at the dead blood in his veins.

"Do you [remember Love Day](https://www.instagram.com/p/B8c1CV8lgGG/)? Six months and [five days ago](https://www.instagram.com/p/B8hmv1BlGSr/). You asked -" Swallowing. Blinking back tears. "You asked if I wanted to marry you. And I said I couldn't. I'd have to watch you get older and die. You said - I remember your exact words, you know. You said, 'My offer still stands, y'know, for you to turn me', and I said I couldn't make you live as a monster, because I hate being like this and I couldn't ask anyone else I loved to die for me."

They're falling freely now. Down his cheeks, dripping on to their hands, on the hospital blanket.

"You said, 'I would, 'cause I love you'. That we'll work it out. That when we do, you'll ask again, for real. Johnny, do you still love me like that? Because this is it. This is 'working it out'. This is how it's ending - not with a cure, but with your death. With you stuck in one place forever. And I hope that one day you'll forgive me for this."

Caleb sinks his fangs into his own wrist, gets the blood flowing. Supports Johnny's head like he's an invalid as he presses his wrist to Johnny's lips, lets the blood run down his throat.

Johnny swallows, automatically, autonomously.

  
  
  
  


Caleb closes his eyes. Pulls his wrist away, the wounds already starting to close. Takes his seat on the bed again, takes his hand again, prays for forgiveness.

When the time comes, Caleb takes his leave, paces the corridors, hands in his pockets and head bowed. So strange. So strange that only two weeks ago, he was in this same hospital, waiting for his little brother to be brought into the world; strange now that he's here because his boyfriend is dying.

He's giving Geoffrey time, time in case it doesn't work, time to let him say _goodbye_ and _I'm sorry_ and things that should have been said a long, long time ago.

And he doesn't want to watch. Can't watch. Can't just stand by as the doctor injects lethal amounts of drugs into Johnny's body. Hates the symbolism of it, that it was drugs that nearly killed him in his last life, drugs that are now actually ending this one.

When he's finally called back, still lost and hollow, the bandages are gone. The ventilator has been switched off. No more tube into his lungs, no more IV. Johnny looks pristine in the bed, every injury and cut and bruise already smoothed away.

Something catches in his throat when Geoffrey turns, and smiles, and says, "It's working."

Silently, Caleb sits down beside Johnny. Takes his hand, and waits.

They are alone when Johnny's hand tightens around Caleb's.

Geoffrey has departed to snatch a few hours of sleep. Caleb has remained, waiting, sitting vigil, not leaving for an instant. One of the nurses has brought him a bag of blood from Pathology; another sits on the table nearby.

Caleb is staring at it, at what it means, when he feels Johnny squeeze his hand.

He starts. Turns. Just manages to catch Johnny's eyes open, flaring brilliant blue; arcane light that turns his green irises into turquoise the way the golden glow of Caleb's eyes turns brown to amber.

The glow fades. Settles back into green. Johnny is staring at him.

  
  


"Hey," Caleb says, feeling absurdly small and wobbly.

"Hey," Johnny murmurs, blinking once.

"How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty."

Caleb doesn't let go of his hand as he stands, reaches for the blood pack. Presses it into Johnny's other hand. Sits down, at his side now to help him sit, and does not turn his head to see what expressions must be crossing his face.

Carefully, Johnny slips his hand free, just long enough to manipulate the straw into the bag. When he takes Caleb's hand again, it's like he's trying to keep himself grounded; like he needs to lean on Caleb as he takes his first conscious drink of blood.

"It's weird," Johnny says softly as he crumples the empty bag and pushes himself up. His free hand is carefully exploring his mouth, the pointed canines; Caleb can remember the first time his searching fingers found his own fangs. "It still tastes like, you know, blood. But like - if I was bleeding or something, and I tasted it, it was like... ew, nope, not right. Now it still tastes the same, but now it's a _good_ taste. It's like - like how dark chocolate was too bitter for me as a kid, but now I really like bittersweet dark chocolate and can appreciate the taste of it and shit."

Caleb stares at the floor.

"Caleb," Johnny says, and his voice is uncertain, "Last thing I remember, I was on stage. What happened?"

"Hit-and-run." He says it quietly, keeps the emotion buried. "You and your dad - he's here, he's just sleeping right now - you were walking home after your show. Car swerved. He was just clipped, but you got the full force of it." Caleb swallows past the lump in his throat. "You were too badly hurt. Brain damage, organ damage, internal bleeding, everything. The doctor - he suggested that if I turned you, it would rewrite your cells and heal the damage. If I didn't, you would die. I'm so, so sorry."

"Caleb."

He's still staring at the floor.

" _Cay_. Look at me." There's a pleading, desperate note in Johnny's voice; Caleb blinks back tears and finally turns to see him, to see the recrimination and blame and hatred.

There is none. Just Johnny, an expression of confused wonder on his face; Johnny, gazing at him like he's a beacon.

The kiss Johnny presses to his lips tastes like blood; he can feel the bite of fangs. Caleb has never willingly kissed another vampire. "Thank you," Johnny whispers, his eyes closed, his expression open and trusting. "Thank you for saving me."

"I killed you," Caleb says miserably; Johnny reaches up to brush away a tear and guides him down to lie with him.

"No, the car killed me. You saved me. So, thank you."

They're lying side by side, face to face, and there's no blame in Johnny's expression. There's a stillness about him that Caleb has never had to confront before, never had to acknowledge an absence of the rise and fall of his chest, the lack of that familiar heartbeat. Johnny has always felt blazingly hot to his own cold skin; now, he feels warm.

Not warm in actuality. He knows that much. Johnny feels warm to him because his cold body now matches Caleb's own, and the dead body of his boyfriend is the one gazing back at him with love and trust and gratitude and makes him _ache_.

"I love you." Johnny says it so easily, no hesitation, no falsehood in his words. "And you did the right thing. I swear, Caleb, you did the right thing. We're going to be okay, I promise."

"I'm sorry," Caleb whispers again, and clings to him like if he lets go, he'll disappear; like he'll be whisked away on the wind, like blood into dust.

"I know. It's okay. There's nothing to be sorry for."

He's tired. Caleb doesn't need to hear Johnny's heartbeat to know that. He closes his eyes, lets them both rest, lets sleep be healer for them both.

On the edge of sleep, he whispers, "Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"Marry me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, 'kay."

Caleb holds him close, and they sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Violence, attempted murder, mention of abuse and torture, mention of attempted suicide, blood

**Forgotten Hollow  
19th August 2018**

Lilith strides out of Wolfsbane Manor with an expression of grim determination on her face and a stake of white oak in her hand.

It has to be done, she is telling herself. It has to be done. Her phone's new lock screen is of herself, her parents, Caleb, and the then-day old Luca - the Vatore family, Luca so tiny and vulnerable, Caleb hiding his trauma behind his smile. It has to be done, for the sake of her brothers.

Once, she had asked Morgyn how to best protect her brother. That had been four months ago, down to the day; [the week before](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_Bynj1jypd/), [Caleb had broken down](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_EsIfGjLWR/) in her arms at [the immensity of immortality](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_Ho-JFD1z4/) and all it would mean for their family.

 _"You are more ruthless,"_ Morgyn had assessed [when she had told them](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23892883) she intended to go through with the plan to try and turn him back to human, and it had been as true then as it was now. She had been able, willing, to try to restore Caleb's humanity by striking down his maker and his tormentor; she had been willing to kill.

Lilith had trained. She had made nice to Vladislaus Straud, her own maker; she had sparred and grown stronger. She had spent long nights with them, become a part of the community of Forgotten Hollow. She had hunted side by side with his maker, ignoring the guilt of sinking of fangs into someone's throat, the taste of hot, rich blood in her mouth, telling herself it was for the greater good.

She had told herself it was all to save Caleb. To rescue him from the clutches of immortality, for the chance to let him live the human life he wanted and needed.

And Raylan Lange, the great-great-grandfather she would have never met if she had never attempted this gambit, [had told her that the chance to turn him back](https://www.instagram.com/p/CDV46t_j8nE/) was all a lie in the first place.

Lilith had been caught unawares and unprepared. She had not had long to think about it before she and Raylan had hurried back down to the city for Luca's birth, had pushed it from her mind, had told Caleb she was going to return to the Hollow to keep training and all the while had wondered what, what she was supposed to do next.

She had always known, really.

_"She calls herself Miss Hell. She's a sadist. She said she turned him because he was pretty when he suffered. She and her friends tortured him for two weeks, and four years later he still wakes up screaming. Hell, she nearly killed me before I asked Straud to turn me. I want to see her die. I want to be the one who does it."_

Even then, even hunkered down with Morgyn, planning a fight for her brother's life, she had known then of the possibility of failure. Hadn't she even said it out loud?

_"Even if it doesn't cure him, at least it removes his torturer from the world. He won't ever have to be scared of her again."_

For Caleb, she would do this. For Caleb, and for Luca, as well; he was so vulnerable. If Miss Hell had decided to go after him, or after her parents...

For her family, she would commit murder.

So, she walks out of Wolfsbane Manor, down to the town square. Waits beneath the statue of her maker, a stake in her hand.

The clock strikes three. Almost on cue, Miss Hell steps out from behind the statue, her eyes cold and blue and predatory.

"Given the stake," she says lightly, "I'm going to assume you didn't ask to meet me for a little chit-chat."

  


"No," Lilith says, and, "I'm here to kill you."

Miss Hell laughs. "Oh, you're adorable. You're welcome to give it a try, Little Lily-Blossom."

"Don't get too cocky," Lilith says flatly, and adds, pointedly, " _Helen_."

The scowl appears as quickly as the laughter had. Lilith has to fight a smirk. There are more serious fights to win, here.

"Fine," Miss Hell says, and straightens to her full height. "Come on, then. Kill me."

Lilith meets her gaze. Circles her like a cat with prey, her right hand tight around the stake. She can see Miss Hell's gaze on it, at its carved tip, sharp enough to puncture flesh and break bone.

She's probably not expecting, when Lilith finally lunges, for her to draw back and punch Miss Hell full in the face with her _left_ hand.

  


Lilith has never had any intention on fighting with a stake. They're unwieldy, unreliable. They're a killing weapon only (although personally Lilith thinks anyone, not just vampires, would die when stabbed in the chest by something long and pointy). She intends to fight the way she always has, not with vampiric ability and power but with sheer physical strength.

Vampiric power is one thing. Lilith has _muscle_.

But -

It's not working. But it's not working. Lilith has muscle, and passion, and the desire to protect her family.

And she's twenty-three years old, has only been training intensively for a handful of months, and her vampiric abilities are nowhere near to the standard of Miss Hell's, who has had three decades to hone all her skill and power into a weapon designed especially for causing harm to others.

  
  


Miss Hell has dropped any pretence of humanity. Her eyes are acid green as she and Lilith circle each other, Lilith trying to steady herself; she wonders if the last thing Caleb saw before her brother died was that colour.

She can feel her body shifting and responding in turn as she circles. There's a haze over her vision and she knows there's gold glowing through her eyes, can feel her limbs growing icy as her undead blood is drawn to her heart, can feel the skin cracking around her eyes.

The Dark form, they call it. A vampire's true form, their most base, most primal form.

Lilith snarls, an animalistic, furious gesture.

She can feel the gathering energy before she sees it, the black miasma swirling around Miss Hell's out-flung hand. And then she's on the ground, hitting it before she can even prepare herself for the fall; she can feel her limbs burning from the inside out as her strength is almost _pulled_ from her, and Miss Hell is laughing, laughing -

  
  


"Poor, sweet Little Lily-Blossom," she croons, circling her prey. "You know what your problem is? You think you want to kill, but you're not nearly as ruthless as you think you are. You want to beat me in honourable combat, but you never think about the possibilities of draining your quarry's life energy, or of causing overwhelming sadness -"

Lilith lets out a broken sob; depression crushing her like a wall -

"Or even causing simple hallucinations. _Drop_."

The scream is torn from her throat involuntarily as the ground opens up, swallows her whole into a bottomless pit, and she's falling, _falling_ -

She's prone on the cobblestones in the square. Her eyes are wet, her limbs trembling.

Miss Hell chuckles. "Your brother didn't like the falling one very much either. I guess it made an impression, though. About an hour after I did that one for the first time, he threw himself from the roof of Straud's manor. Poor stupid boy didn't realise it'd take more than that to kill him. It's kind of funny." She's smirking, circling, relating her abuse like it's just another day for her. Thoughtfully, she adds, "Oh, and it was just before sunrise, too. Had to drag him back in by his broken legs or he would have burned, and wouldn't that have just ruined my fun?"

She hurt Caleb. She hurt Caleb, and was laughing about it, and Lilith can feel the last of her strength burning in her limbs as she slowly, painfully pushes herself up.

Miss Hell kicks her in the stomach.

  


"You don't get it, do you?" she says in poisonous honeyed tones. "You're a _child_. You may be my sister, but you're nothing next to me. And dear little Caleb? He's my plaything. I very nearly broke him before. I can break him again."

There's a sob tearing from Lilith's throat. She pushes herself up, up again; has only one thought in her head:

_Protect Caleb._

But she's so tired. She's so broken and bloodied and bruised. Miss Hell has torn at her mind and her body, and when she next hits the ground, she stays there.

  
  
  
  


Miss Hell raises the stake, dropped at some point in the fight. Lilith stares up at her dazedly, feels the slow inexorable drop towards unconsciousness begin to steal through her limbs.

  


_I'm sorry, Caleb,_ she thinks. _I'm sorry. I tried. I love you. I'm sorry._

Lilith's eyes fall shut, and she thinks no more.

He has never moved so fast.

Raylan has been on tenterhooks all night. He had risen shortly after dusk, chatted to Lilith over plasma fruit cocktails, read the paper and practised the violin; by all accounts, it had been a perfectly average evening.

But Lilith has been tense, and quiet, and distracted. Raylan fears his great-great-granddaughter has something terrible in mind.

Nearing three. There's a sharp rap on the back door; Raylan answers it to find Markus Crow there.

Markus is an odd one. Miss Hell's offspring and, as far as Raylan knows, totally loyal. Still, the young man is good-natured and friendly enough; he's come for a few spare plasma fruits to make sunlight resistance cocktails and Raylan indulges him.

Lilith's scream rends the night air.

Markus is forgotten in an instant. He's moving, moving with supernatural speed; sees the fight, the blow Miss Hell has delivered his granddaughter, sees her raise the stake above her head.

Raylan's hand closes around Miss Hell's wrist.

" _Raylan_." It comes out as a hiss; Miss Hell yanks her arm free and takes several steps back. "Should have guessed Markus wouldn't keep you long. Look what your brat did to me!"

Ignoring the urge to say that she deserves all the scratches and cuts Lilith has inflicted on her and more, Raylan carefully gathers Lilith's unconscious body in his arms. She's limp, but alive; there's a faint thread of vitality in her.

  
  
  


"Don't come any nearer," he snarls, cradling Lilith against him, "Or I'll rip your throat out for touching her."

She narrows her eyes, acid-green. "I'm Straud's heir. You would not dare lay a _finger_ on me."

"Fuck Straud. She's my own blood."

"I'm terrified," she says mockingly, and laughs. "All I was doing was defending myself. Your _own blood_ is a homicidal little attack terrier and I was just going to put her down like the bitch she is."

He tightens his grip. Knows that if he wasn't holding her, protecting her, he would be fighting Miss Hell himself. "I should kill you for disrespecting her!"

" _You will not touch her._ "

It hadn't been Miss Hell speaking inexplicably in third person. Raylan swallows compulsively, and turns to find Vladislaus Straud in full blood-soaked glory staring straight into his soul with eyes as dark as the void.

  


Miss Hell has fallen silent, a smirk twitching around the corners of her lips.

"Helen," Straud says; she straightens up, the only one she will answer to that name for. "Explain."

"I got a note," she says in a rush, "Telling me to meet Lilith here at three. When I got here, she had a stake with her. She said she was going to kill me. Made a good try of it, too - I had to fight to defend my own life!"

Straud shifts, shimmers; returns to the form as close to human as he ever gets. Eyes now simply a mundane black, he turns to Raylan. "Is this true?"

  


"He wasn't even here! He's a biased source, anyway!"

"Helen. I asked him, not you."

She falls silent, sullen. Raylan opens his mouth to deny it, to defend Lilith, because he knows what the response will be if Straud knows the truth.

"She - I - I wasn't here -"

"And yet you know."

His own words, and Lilith's, echoing in his mind, loud as a shout for Straud:

_"...It doesn't work that way."_

_"It has to. I've trained too hard for it not to!"_

_"How much you've trained or not is beside the point. All you'll end up doing is committing a murder in cold blood, and I don't think that's your style. It's not going to help Caleb."_

Straud raises his arched eyebrows. "You knew she had the intent to kill. You tried to dissuade her, and she defied you. For that, I will not kill you."

Raylan opens his mouth to - what, apologise? Explain? Thank him?

"But -" Straud continues, "You and your descendants are henceforth banished from Forgotten Hollow and its surrounds. You have until sunrise to depart. If you or the girl, or the boy, show your faces here again, I will end your miserable existences myself. Do you understand?"

  
  


Curtly, Raylan nods.

"Fine. Go." Straud turns on his heel and disappears into black mist; the night falls silent again.

Miss Hell watches him, her eyes still luminous green.

"Bye bye, Raylan," she says, and her lips curve in a smirk. "Maybe we'll meet again some day. Bye bye, Little Lily-Blossom. I'll kill her next time I see her."

Raylan turns, holds Lilith close, and walks away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Alto Apartments, San Myshuno  
6:43 PM, 19th August 2018**

Morgyn sits, and watches, and sits, and wishes there was something they could do.

The heaviness in the living room is a tangible weight pressing down on their shoulders. They can see it in the way Caleb clings to Johnny, the way Johnny leans on Caleb like he's his rock; in the way Lilith huddles in on herself, her physical injuries healed but their scars embedded deep within her bones. They can see the wariness, the uncertainty in Raylan's posture, the way he sits apart from his descendants, wanting to comfort them but not sure how.

How can they be okay again, after this?

Their battles had overlapped, separate fights for life under the same moon, intersecting with the rising of the sun. Now, the sun is setting on that day, the moon rising on the next night, and Morgyn can only watch and think, _what happens next?_

Johnny had died and been reborn. Caleb had been the one to do it. Lilith had fought for her brother's life and failed. Raylan had been the one to save her from death, too.

How do they go on?

Lilith had found over twenty missed calls and several panicked texts from Caleb as she had woken up in Raylan's car, their belongings from Forgotten Hollow piled in the back seat and a bag of blood packs on her lap. She had drank, and healed, and read the messages somewhere around the outskirts of Windenburg, the sun starting to peer over the mountains; she had read them to Raylan as they fled.

By the time they had reached the hospital, it had already been over. Johnny had been discharged - well, why wouldn't he be? There was nothing medically wrong with him, other than being dead. Lilith and Raylan had found him in the waiting room with his father and with Caleb, quite unsure how to get home in the light of day; Raylan had provided him with an umbrella and had walked him to the car with its tinted windows.

They had gone home.

Lilith had called Morgyn some time late in that morning. They had been in the Realm at the time, wholly ignorant of their twin fights for life that had happened only hours earlier; Morgyn had listened to her messages and had immediately dismissed their students, transportalating straight into their living room.

And there, the five of them had lingered, departing only to wash the night from their skin but otherwise sticking together like baby birds, like shell-shocked survivors not quite believing they had made it out to the other end.

Johnny and Caleb huddle together on the sofa. Caleb can't quite let go; he smiles when Johnny turns to him but his eyes are unbearably sad whenever Johnny turns away.

He is thinking:

_What have I done? Being turned against my will was the worst, most traumatic thing that's ever happened to me. Now I've done the same to someone I love. And he says it's okay, but what will happen when he realises just how long 'forever' is? I can barely conceptualise it myself, and he has his own trauma to work through._

_Am I a bad person for doing this? Am I a bad person for being just the slightest, tiniest bit glad that now I won't have to say goodbye?_

_**Where do we go from here?** _

Johnny knows none of this. He is marvelling at the sensation of Caleb leaning against him and being _warm_ , not the chill solidity his skin had been once. He knows it's because his own body has cooled to match, and he still can't quite believe it.

He is thinking:

_I'm a vampire now. I died, and now I'm a vampire. And I don't blame him, not in the slightest, but I've never been a vampire before! How do I do this? Do I just get used to blood and only going out at night? I've said so many times that I'm okay with it, but now it's actually happened, and I've had no warning or preparation!_

_**Where do we go from here?** _

Lilith sits huddled at her brother's side. Her skin has returned to being pristine and flawless, no signs of injury or hurt. Only the tenseness of her shoulders shows the ordeal she's survived.

She is thinking:

_I tried to protect him, and I failed. I've made things worse, haven't I? Now we're banished. Miss Hell is going to kill me if I ever go near her again, and I've ruined any chance of us being able to live in peace. All I wanted to do was remove his torturers and abusers from the world, and instead I turned them even more against us. I messed up, big time._

_**Where do we go from here?** _

Raylan sits one apart from the others, in an armchair of his own. He's feeling worry, guilt, the pang of loss; it smarts on his skin.

He is thinking:

_I couldn't stop her. I tried to warn her, and I still failed to get through to her. Thank the Watcher I could protect her from death at their hands, but this never should have happened in the first place. I should have sought diplomacy instead of sitting back and doing nothing. Now my great-great-granddaughter - my great-great-grandchildren, both of them - they're hurting and they're in danger and I never wanted this for them._

_I can't even bring myself to blame the spellcaster too much. They only gave the option because Caleb was hurting so much. Maybe if I had known earlier, I could have eased the way for them both, made them see that it's not so bad to be one of us._

_**Where do we go from here?** _

Morgyn stands and watches, stands back and apart. Should Lilith or Caleb need them, they will be there; indeed, they've already met them for fierce protective hugs - but they are drowning in guilt.

They are thinking:

_This is my fault. I was the one that put the idea into her head in the first place, by giving them false hope. I knew it was only rumour, why did I ever encourage her? I should have looked further into more reputable sources, tried to find an actual solution - worked harder for them all. Not just for Caleb, but for Lilith as well, and for Johnny, who never had a choice either._

_**Where do we go from here?** _

The sun sets behind the buildings of San Myshuno. Caleb raises his head, and asks:

"Where do we go from here?"

Lilith reaches for his hand; Johnny squeezes his shoulders. Raylan unfurls, eyes heavy on his descendants.

Morgyn speaks quietly, gently.

"We keep going. That's all we can do."


End file.
